The Aftermath
by Melimsah
Summary: Christmas Eve, 1991- What happens after the carolers sing... after the nosebleed stops? What happens after an entire life has been ripped apart? Is there hope for recovery? Warning: self-harm/suicide, reference to child molestation-don't like don't read
1. Five Hours

**The Aftermath**

**Rated:** M, for Mature. The movie itself is not for kids, and neither is this story.

**Disclaimer:** Mysterious Skin and its characters belong to Scott Heim and Gregg Araki (or whichever movie company owns those rights).

**Warning:** This story deals with ideas of suicide, self-mutilation, child abuse, and more. If you do not like, do not read.

**Author's Comments: **

So, I had to take a break from children's cartoons and go somewhere deep… Mysterious Skin is quite possibly the deepest I could go… I got into the film simply because it had Joseph Gordon-Levitt's naked butt in it (and how could I possibly say no to that?) and then walked out of my friend's room completely mind-broken.

It's an amazing movie, for those on my alert list who may be asking why I'm not updating other stories. But it's heavily rated R and deals with child sexual molestation….

I wanted to know what happened after that final scene… what happened when Eric came back to pick up Brian and Neil? How does Brian go on after his world has been torn apart completely?

So… that's what I'm writing.

A bit about the format: someone posted the transcript of Mysterious Skin, and I REALLY liked how he typed everything out – it was like a poem. So I decided to utilize that, at least for Brian's parts… don't know if it's going to be the whole story…

Enjoy the angst…

* * *

**Chapter 1: Five Hours**

----

Christmas Eve, 1991

----

That night, after Neil told me everything  
Another five hours disappeared from my life  
Gone… lost without a trace.  
I don't mind, though.  
Not this time…

Last thing I remember was being held in Neil's arms.  
…the sound of carolers

What happened after that  
a pitch black void.

"Brian…?"

I came to  
once again  
to the sound of Deborah's voice…

"Brian!"

To her scream.  
And the touch of her hands on my fallen shoulders.

I was in the cellar…  
on the floor.  
Bleeding.  
My nose… and my wrists.  
Wrists and hands just drenched in my blood.  
There was even blood under my fingernails.

She begged for our mother to come.  
Begged to know what happened  
Why I would do this…  
on Christmas Eve of all nights.  
Why?

I simply shook my head, face emotionless.  
And those images of that night, ten years ago  
Would not leave me alone.  
Flashing like a projector on the screen of my mind  
Someone hitting the 'next' button far too fast.

More cries.  
Desperate voices. Panicked voices.  
I closed my eyes, breathing deep the smell of blood.  
So familiar…  
soothing almost…

"Brian! Brian!"

Their calls… were giving me a headache.

"…just five more hours…"

"Brian?"

"…or an eternity…

"…please…"

…I must have passed out at that point.  
Everything from then on was just a smattering of voices…  
…flashes of imagery.  
…Darkness.

I was only vaguely aware when the paramedics arrived.  
Felt their cold hands lifting my body to the gurney  
with a rush of nausea and pain.  
Smelled their sterile, pungent van.  
Heard Mom's and Debora's voices…  
begging me to hold on.

…and then nothing once more…

…nothing but nightmares…  
…plagued by a beautiful young face.  
…a knowing, wicked smile…

…Neil.

----

When I woke again, I was lying in a room alone.  
A hospital room, I decided, as I took in that stark, bitter smell of sterilized equipment.  
It took my eyes awhile to open, to look around.  
Everything felt numb. Completely.

It was wonderful.

I tried to move, but my body was still weak.  
Felt the strange tug of something on one arm.  
Blinking through blurriness, I could see the red IV tube.  
Following it down, seeing the bandages around my arms.  
Wrapped from the crook of the wrist up almost to the elbow.  
And I could not help but feel… dissatisfied.  
Incomplete.

The sound of door hinges brought me from my thoughts.  
My head lolled lazily to the side, tired eyes looking towards the noise.  
Expecting Mom or Deborah, I instead saw a man in white.  
standing at the door of my empty little white cell.

"Hello, Brian," he said carefully  
fidgeting with a little clipboard as he walked towards me.  
His voice had a strange pitch to it, a kind of whiny, airy resonance.  
"I'm Doctor White. I'm a psychologist here at PRMC."  
He grabbed a wheeled chair from beside the door and rolled it towards my side,  
sitting upon it with a rough sigh and flipping through pages of his clipboard.

I couldn't look at him…  
I turned my face from him, but could still see his bald head from the corner of my eye.

"You're in our behavioral health ward. We're going to keep you here under close observation  
until we can be assured you are no longer a danger to yourself…"

Just stop talking and go away, I wanted to tell him.

He was going to ask me about everything…

…I… didn't want to talk about it.  
Or even think about it.

Ever.

Not again.

He was still talking, but I wasn't really paying attention anymore to what he was saying,  
everything just coming in as a jarbled message,  
like an alien language.

Aliens…

…why couldn't it have been aliens…?

And then,  
Something snapped.  
In my brain  
Or my heart…  
…or somewhere…

And I screamed.  
Just screamed until I couldn't anymore.

They had to hold me down.  
But I just kept screaming.

"Why couldn't it have been aliens?!"

That was just one of things that they could discern  
through my hysterical cries.

Why…  
did it have to be this way…?

----


	2. Feliz Navidad?

**Author's Comments:**

In the last scene… I'll admit, I've never woken up from a suicide attempt in the hospital, so I have no idea what it's like… nor can I really find first-hand accounts of it online… But I can go with what little I have experienced personally, what I have been told, etc…

I just can't get away from this story… I just kind of need to just get it all out, I think… so that's just going to be what I do today.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Feliz Navidad?**

----

Christmas Day, 1991

----

Eric Preston was awoken in his attic room by his mother opening the door.

It was far too early to be awake, even for Christmas Day.

"Eric. Phonecall," his mother said with her sharp Mexican accent."

"Mrrrugh…" Eric responded, pressing his face into his pillows, with hope that would make his mom walk away and tell whoever was calling to try again later. Who the fuck would be calling at 6 o clock in the morning on Christmas Day? If it was Nana, he would start killing people…

But his mother stepped up into his room, crouching beneath the angled ceiling and holding the phone towards him.

"Eric. It's Brian's mom. She needs to talk to you. Now."

Brian's mom…?

And his own mother's urgent voice…

Eric raised his head and looked towards her, his face twisted in an ugly scowl of grogginess. He looked down at the phone a long moment, still glowering a bit with drowsiness as he reached out and grabbed the receiver.

"'Lo…?" he asked in a grumble, rubbing the palm of his hand against his eye, trying to massage the bleariness from his vision.

"Eric? It's… it's Mrs. Lackey."

He pushed himself up in bed, his mother lingering by his side as he sat up fully, frowning at his sheets.

"Yeah," he mumbled dumbly, stifling a yawn. "What's up?"

"I… Brian was with you last night… Did-Did he say anything to you…? Anything at all…?"

Eric's slow, sleep-encumbered brain took a few moments to churn her words over, to take note of her strained voice. "Not… really… I mean he didn't say a thing at all when we…" He thought back to last night, to when he picked up Neil and Brian from that house… his nerdy new friend had said absolutely nothing the whole trip back, Neil speaking for him the whole time – saying that his nose had "simply started bleeding", that nothing had happened in the house, telling Eric to take Brian back home…

…but something had happened. He could tell.

He was suddenly wide awake.

"Mrs. Lackey? What's going on?" he asked, his chest seizing up with dread. "Did something happen to Brian?"

"Yes… he…" Her voice shook into silence, and Eric's grip tightened on the phone, eyes widening. That could only mean one thing… "…he tried to kill himself last night."

"Oh, Jesus…" Eric breathed, eyes staring wide straight before him, his limbs running cold. Panic gripped him as he clutched the phone in both hands, swinging his feet from the bed, covers cascading to the floor as his feet touched down on its wooden surface, leaning over his knees with eyes still wider in shock as the full weight of the situation dropped on him. It just didn't make sense… Brian, of all people…? "H-How?! I- is he alright? Is he going to be okay?"

Silence over the receiver. Eric held his breath waiting for the response, praying that the silence didn't mean what he thought it might.

"We… we don't know if he'll…" Brian's mother sounded as though she was fighting hard not to cry, her voice heavily strained. "He- his sister found him bleeding in the cellar last night, and now he's in the hospital. He will recover physically, but he wont talk to the doctor's… or us… We're just trying to figure all this out… and, I mean, w-we thought, as his friend…"

"Yeah… I… I… Oh god, I'm so sorry, Mrs. Lackey," Eric said, feeling like he was blabbering as he pressed a hand to his cheek, clutching the telephone tighter in his other grasp. He stared dumbly down at his bare feet with disbelief taking over his mind. "But, I… I had no idea he would ever… I don't know why he would…" His eyes flickered again, his mind involuntarily recalling last night once more…

…Brian had been fine before he and Neil went into that house…

…and then afterwards…

Eric swallowed hard, growing stern, almost determined. "But… I may know someone who might know… I-I'll talk to him and… and I'll come down to the hospital later, okay?"

"Kay… Thank you, Eric…" Mrs. Lackey said, her Midwestern drawl trembling as she spoke. "You're… you've been such a good friend to Brian… thank you…"

Eric swallowed hard, feeling unwarranted tears coming to his eyes at the stark sincerity of her words.

"I… It's…it's no problem, Mrs. Lackey…" he replied quietly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I…I'll see you later…" He hesitated a long moment before pulling the phone from his ear and pressing the off button.

"Eric… what's going on?"

Eric didn't respond to his mother, staring down at the floor for a long while… then, with sudden urgency, he stood up, snatching up a shirt and his wallet and keys, scrambling clumsily for his shoes as he made his way to his door.

"Eric! _Miho!_ What are you—"

"I have to go…" he said quickly, hopping on one foot as he struggled to pull his shoe on without unlacing it.

"But it's Christmas morning and your brothers—"

"Please, Mom. This is important," Eric interrupted, bending to untie his shoe and pull it on his foot. He looked over his shoulder, and he was certain his fear and desperation was etched into his face. "Brian… he tried to kill himself… and I know Neil knows something about why... I know he does. I have to go see him." He straightened, tugging his tank top over his head and rubbing his hair to hopefully make it less bedheady – or more intentionally bedhead like he'd usually gel it.

"B-Brian…? Oh… oh my god.." his mother hissed as Eric snatched up his jacket and pulled it on, turning to look at her as he pocketed his keys and wallet. He paused in his haste, face falling at her horrified expression.

He thought of Brian's mom… how much pain could be heard in her voice…

He let out a sigh and stepped to his mother, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, nestling his head beside her bushy mass of curly hair.

"I'm sorry, Mom… I'll try to be back for dinner, okay?"

"Okay," she said in a nasally voice, hugging him tight to her large body for a long moment. "Tell Brian's family that I'll be doing very little but praying for them today, okay?"

"I will…" He pulled away and turned, snatching up his backpack and throwing a few more items into it before rushing out the door, bounding down the stairs and shoving one of his excited little brothers out of the way as he tore through the front door and out of the house, headed towards his Podunk little car.

_What did you do to him, Neil…_ he kept asking as he chucked his bag through the open window, yanking the cardoor open, settling down into his seat and not even bothering with his seatbelt as he turned the key in the ignition. _What the fuck have you done…?_

He hit one red stoplight on his way to the McCormick's house. He sat waiting for it to turn green, the amount of time it took seeming to take an eternity… he gripped the steering wheel tightly in both hands, rage and frustration and despair boiling up inside him to the point he couldn't hold it anymore. He gave a cry of pure anguish and slammed his hand down as hard as he could on the side of the steering wheel, sending a resonating spasm of pain up his arm. But he didn't care. He pressed a hand to his face, the other still holding onto the steering wheel.

Brian… the one _real_ friend he'd had in a long time…

"_What the fuck did you do to him, Neil?!"_ he shouted to his dashboard, the stoplight having long turned green, those behind him honking completely unawares. After a second to get himself under control, he floored it, barreling ahead like a madman. "Fuck you, Neil… fuck you… you fucking… you fucking bastard…" he kept whispering under his breath, trying to hold back his tears… glad he had been too hurried to bother with makeup, because it would have been running by now…


End file.
